The grand hall buzzed with voices. Students crowded around the tall crystalline board where their names had been inscribed, alongside their preliminary rankings and available class placements. Teachers stood at the front, each representing a path of study: combat, strategy, elemental mastery, beast contracts, runic inscriptions, and more.
Arata moved through the crowd slowly, head slightly lowered, shoulders slouched just enough to exude ordinariness. His expression never wavered from its carefully painted mask of mild disinterest.
Inside, however, his thoughts were sharp.
They're all rushing toward glory. Each prodigy wants the Combat Class under Master Takeda, or the Elemental Division under Elder Yukimura. Too many eyes there, too much competition. Not yet. I'll take the quiet corner… the one no one is watching.
Names were shouted across the hall as prodigies declared their choices.
"Akihiko Raizan—Combat Division under Elder Takeda Gorin!"
"Ayame Yukishiro—Elemental Division under Elder Yukimura Hisen!"
"Daichi Sumeragi—Earth and Forge Class under Instructor Kasuga!"
Each announcement drew murmurs and cheers. The prodigies moved like stars into their proper constellations.
Finally, Arata's name was called.
"Kurogane Arata."
The hall quieted briefly, mostly out of curiosity for the boy who had embarrassed himself during the trial.
Arata lifted his head slightly. His eyes scanned the names of teachers again, then settled on a single, lesser-noticed option:
Practical Studies & Circuit Application — Instructor Kaede Honjou.
"I'll take Practical Studies," he said softly.
A wave of confusion passed through the crowd. Some chuckled.
"Of course. He hides with the weakest class."
"Practical Studies? That's for rejects who don't have the talent for the real divisions."
But he walked forward calmly, accepting the parchment with the class seal.
Perfect. A quiet corner where I can play the fool while learning everything I need… and no one will care enough to pry.
The students of the Practical Studies class gathered in a smaller, sunlit chamber. And that was when she entered.
Kaede Honjou.
She was twenty-five, tall, her frame curving in ways that made several male students sit up straighter. Her long chestnut hair spilled over her shoulders, and her dark eyes carried both warmth and hidden steel. A white uniform hugged her figure, modest yet somehow making her curves all the more undeniable. When she spoke, her voice was soft—honey-smooth, gentle enough to melt nerves—yet there was an undertone of power, like a blade hidden in silk.
"Welcome," she said, her smile kind. "I'll be your instructor. My name is Kaede Honjou. You may call me Instructor Kaede."
Some students nearly tripped over their words introducing themselves. Others whispered about her beauty, her sweetness.
Arata simply lowered his head slightly, voice steady. "Kurogane Arata."
Her eyes lingered on him just a moment longer than the others.
Class began with Kaede explaining the goals of Practical Studies.
"It may sound unimpressive," she admitted with a small laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "but mastering circuits is not always about explosions and spectacle. It's about control. Adaptation. Knowing when not to use your power."
As she spoke, her eyes flickered across the room, reading each student's posture, their circuits, their nervous ticks. When she glanced at Arata again, something in her gaze sharpened.
His aura was faint, nearly nonexistent. And yet, beneath that faintness, she sensed… weight. A strange density, like a calm sea hiding a storm.
She didn't say anything. She simply smiled.
"You there—Arata, was it?" she asked, her voice light. "Do you understand what I mean by restraint?"
Arata raised his head just slightly. "More than most, Instructor."
Her lips curved at his answer. She didn't press further, but a quiet spark of curiosity flickered in her eyes.
Interesting… you're hiding something.
Days passed quietly. While other students spent their evenings sparring or showing off circuits, Arata found his way into the academy's vast library almost every night.
Rows of shelves stretched endlessly, lit by soft crystal lanterns. Dust lingered in corners where no student bothered to read.
Arata combed through everything: treatises on elemental circuits, journals on ancient beasts, accounts of wars long forgotten. He read voraciously, absorbing history, philosophy, techniques.
One night, his hand stopped on a book that didn't quite belong.
Its spine was plain, unmarked. The cover was dark leather, rougher than the polished bindings around it. When he pulled it free, faint symbols flickered across the surface, almost as if the book itself was breathing.
He opened it.
Inside—dense formulas. Not diagrams of ordinary circuits, but spirals, fractals, sequences of runes layered in impossible symmetry. His eye glimmered faintly as he traced them, lips curving in amusement.
Whoever wrote this… wasn't human. Or at least, not entirely bound by human thought. This is a language of power hidden in mathematics. If I break it down…
He turned page after page, piecing patterns, mentally rewriting equations into usable forms. The formulas bent into concepts of inversion, nullification, amplification. His mind raced.
A single whisper escaped his lips.
"…Beautiful."
The sound of footsteps made him close the book sharply.
It was Kaede Honjou, carrying a stack of papers. She blinked when she saw him still awake at the table.
"Arata? You're here late."
He gave a small shrug, eyes calm. "Reading suits me more than sparring."
Her lips curved gently. She set her papers down and leaned slightly against the table, the faint scent of jasmine reaching him. Her sweet voice softened further.
"You're… different than the others. Quiet, but sharp. And I think you notice more than you let on."
Arata met her gaze, expression unreadable. Inside, though, his thoughts flickered:
She's observant. Too observant. Best not to let her peel back too many layers… not yet.
Still, he allowed a small smirk to touch his lips. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just boring."
For the first time, Kaede hesitated—her cheeks faintly warm. She looked away, straightening the papers in her hands with unnecessary focus.
"Don't sell yourself short," she said quickly, voice just a little flustered. "Some people hide their strength… waiting for the right moment."
Her words hung in the air, heavier than she meant them to.
Arata leaned back in his chair, watching her quietly.
So even predators can blush when they sense another predator.
He tapped the cover of the strange book once, then slid it into his cloak.
"Goodnight, Instructor."
His voice was smooth, edged with faint amusement.
She blinked, then smiled softly. "Goodnight, Arata."
As he walked away, her gaze lingered on his back, thoughtful, curious, and faintly unsettled.
And in his head, Arata's inner voice whispered with satisfaction.
Step by step. I'll peel this academy apart, one secret at a time.